Moments in Time and Space
by Lord Kellendros
Summary: Kim’s trapped in a dimensional rift, and the process Wade uses to get her back sends copies of her all over the multiverse. What becomes of those copies in the new worlds they end up in? Crossover and or Fusion Oneshots.
1. First Dimension

Background: The subsequent one-shots are the result of the following half-Challenge, half-Round Robin created by Rann over at the KP Slash Haven forum.

Rann's Setup (Condensed Synopsis)- Kim's trapped in a dimensional rift, and the process Wade comes up with in order to get her back sends copies of her all over the multiverse.

Rann's Challenge- The idea is this. Take a song from your music library that gives you an idea for Kim being in some other dimension. She can have just gotten there, not been there long, or she's been there for years, up to you. Also up to you is how long it is, you can write a full-length fic or just a little vignette showing what Kim's doing. She can have hooked up with a guy or girl or no one at all. She can have settled down, she can have climbed to new heroic heights; the limit is how inspired your music can make you.

Inspiration: If anyone wants to use any of these one-shots as a basis to write something more extensive of their own, go right ahead. Though crediting me in the foreword would be nice. ;)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Kim Possible and associated characters are the property of the Walt Disney Corporation and are used here for parody reasons without permission. Characters from any other sources are owned by their respective creators/copyright holders/trademark holders and are used here for parody reasons without permission.

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**- Insert something dramatic, tense, and classical here (seriously, they don't title the music from this source) -**

Kim quickly wiped her right hand on her heavy beige kaki shorts before reaching out to slide the next puzzle tile into position on the altar. Looking up, Kim squinted in the gloom, trying to ignore the grating rumble vibrating through the room and the gunfire at her back as she studied the ancient, faded fresco on the temple wall before her. A second later she lifted the Colt .45 in her left hand and fired another heavy slug into the trigger on the left side of the room to free up the rest of the puzzle tiles for another fifteen seconds.

As Kim started sliding the puzzle tiles around to get the next piece into position, there was a dull metallic clank from down the hall leading to the main room they were in, quickly followed by a bloodcurdling, otherworldly, shrieking howl that even the renewed gunfire behind her failed to drown out as it rapidly got closer.

Kim slid another tile into position a few seconds later, and as she did, both the gunfire and the hideous howling went silent. An instant after that there was the heavy thud of a huge body hitting the ground. Shortly after that Kim heard the metallic clatter of a pair of clips hitting the stone floor followed by the soft rasp of two more sliding home.

"Kimberly love, that one was rather a might bit bigger than the last three that were released. And I would also like to point out that the walls have closed in on us considerably since you started." a smooth feminine voice behind her calmly stated in cultured British tones.

Even though she knew she shouldn't, Kim couldn't help but waste precious time glancing at the walls on either side of the room, bristling with wickedly sharp spikes and slowly but inexorably closing in on them. Kim's tight braid undulated back and forth as she shook her head and returned to the puzzle she was working on.

"I'm going as fast as I can here Lara. I did ask if you wanted to do this part instead, didn't I?" Kim grumbled, sliding another puzzle tile into place.

"Now we both know I'm a better shot than you Kimberly love, and besides, you still need more practice solving these kinds of things in real-world situations."

Kim couldn't help grinning. Sliding another piece of tile into place, Kim's grin turned to a snarl as the frame around the tiles clamped down and fixed them all in place. She'd only been one piece away from finishing it!

"I've got to hit it one more time Lara!" Kim said, raising her automatic again. "Get ready!"

"Always ready love." Lara answered cheerfully from behind her.

Kim shot the trigger once more and, as soon as the frame relaxed and released the tiles, started shifting the handful left to get the last piece into place. As she did, there was another loud metallic clank and a titanic roar shook the room, a moment later she head Lara mutter "Considerably larger." from behind her.

Kim slid the last tile into place a second later and gave a victorious smile as the picture was completed. There were several clicks and thunks from the altar that were more felt than heard, and the frame tightened around the tiles once more. As it did the rumbling stopped as the spiked walls to either side of them ground to a halt.

As soon as she was sure it was done, Kim whirled around and dove to the side while yanking out her second Colt .45. Rolling into a crouch to one side of Lara, Kim opened fire on the… thing, that was charging up the corridor toward them. It sort of looked like a mummified bull with blazing red eyes. If a bull had fangs and a humanoid body… with four arms…

Kim fired for center mass—the very, very _large_ center mass—blowing huge but possibly ineffectual chunks out of the creature because she didn't want to risk wasting any more rounds. Kim kept firing until her guns ran dry and then jumped clear of the creature's path, but Lara remained where she was, firing into the creature's head until it was practically on top of her, only leaping out of the way just in the nick of time.

As Lara flipped away she fired the last few rounds from her extended magazines into the creature, and it stumbled and keeled over dead—or dead again, as the case may be—the momentum of its charge carrying it into a tumbling roll into the altar, where it bounced up and over it to land on the far side of the room in a broken heap, the ruby light in its eye sockets slowly fading to nothing.

Moving back to the center of the room, Kim and Lara mirrored one another as they ejected their exhausted clips from their guns and replaced them with fresh ones. They mirrored one another in other ways too. Both wore fingerless leather mitts, heavy knee-high hiking boots and socks, kaki shorts, a small, compact backpack, and a complex harness around their waist and thighs that held their thigh holsters, spare ammo clips, mini-grapnels, flares, and a couple of smooth, handball sized round grenades.

They differed in many ways as well however. The superficial was their tops; Lara wore what was essentially a one-piece blue bathing suit of heavy woven synthetics, while Kim wore her trademark style black, midriff baring crop top with three-quarter sleeves. Despite the fact that both women wore their hair in a single long, tight braid, Lara's was a true auburn, which made Kim's all the more noticeably dark red in comparison. Then there was their builds; while both women were highly lean and athletic, Kim was more heavyset compared to Lara's slender frame—though oddly enough, they were incongruous when it came to their feminine endowments; Kim still had small, pert breasts, despite her heavier frame, while Lara had rather… large, well rounded ones, to say the least.

Releasing their locked slides once the fresh clips were in, Kim and Lara holstered their guns and then Lara said; "Well Kimberly, you're certainly coming along nicely as my apprentice." Lara smiled. "Though a few years ago if anyone had ever told me I'd even have an apprentice, let alone a lady as young as yourself, I'd have probably laughed in their face."

"Thanks. I think…" Kim smiled back.

A lot had changed in the last two years since she'd fallen into this world through that dimensional rift and been saved by Lara—and, in the course of exploring the ancient ruins they had been in at the time, saved her several times in return. This world was… darker, than her own. More… dirty, in some ways… crueler. But it had plenty of good things in it as well, like her new mentor Lady Croft. If it hadn't been for Lara, Kim wasn't sure she could have gone on, knowing she might never go home to her friends and family again. She'd given her a new path and a new focus—and a shoulder to cry on on those long, cold nights when the enormous weight of her situation seemed to close in, seeking to crush her with black despair.

"Well now, let's see what we've done, shall we love?" Lara's voice broke Kim out of her revere.

Kim nodded, and both women turned to the altar, taking a single step forward before there was a loud clunk felt through the floor beneath them. They only had time to turn and look at one another, their eyes widening while Kim said "Bloody" and Lara finished "Hell!" before the entire floor in front of the altar opened up and they fell into the inky darkness below.

After a long fall both women plunged into icy cold water, sinking deep before their momentum was finally absorbed and they were able to kick their way back to the surface without undue difficulty.

"Are you ok love?" Lara asked, only able to see a few feet around her.

"Yeah, I'm ok." Kim answered, popping a chemical flare.

In the luminous green glow of the flare, both women swam towards a distant shelf and pulled themselves up onto it, quickly shaking the water off themselves as fast as they could.

Holding her flare up, Kim looked around and asked; "You see any way out of here Lara?"

Joining the visual search, Lara soon answered; "Not that I can s… hang on love, what's that up there?"

Lara pointed to a dark spot about twenty-five feet up the far wall. Kim squinted at the rough cliff wall in the gloom, and then, with a silent prayer, threw her flare toward the dark depression. A moment later it passed out of sight, illuminating the mouth of a small passage.

"Good shot Kimberly." Lara congratulated Kim. "And that's our way out."

Twenty minutes later both women were coming out onto a narrow ledge high on one side of a huge, sprawling temple room nearly the size of a football field. Below them, all across the multiple levels of the temple floor and raised areas around it, dozens of black-clad mercenaries stood guard; looking in every direction while a well-dressed man approached the central altar and the huge, elaborate demon statues behind it.

Reaching out, the man picked up an intricate, ruby encrusted scepter. The shaft glowed faintly with a light of its own, pulsing evilly from within the golden rod. Turning to a pair of coldly beautiful twin blondes waiting for him at the foot of the dais the altar was resting upon, he raised the scepter high above his head and grinned with maniacal glee.

"We have found it my daughters!" The man all but shouted, his voice high and weak and old, despite his powerful-looking frame. "The Key of Sorrow! Now we can open the gates of Mordus Kull and release the Dread Lord Salkalesh from his otherworldly realm, and he will plunge the world into ten thousand years of darkness, over which we shall rule second only to him, with eternal youth and vigor as our reward!"

Looking over to Kim sympathetically, Lara very softly said; "I'm sorry this wasn't your way back home love."

Kim shook her head and whispered back; "It's ok Lara. There's dozens of other artifacts out there that are connected to legends of traveling to other realms. One of them is bound to get me home." Lara nodded, a proud gleam in her eye, and Kim continued; "But for now, we have business to take care of."

"Right you are love." Lara whispered, her eyes going as hard as Kim's while she carefully slid a gun and a grenade into her hands, just like Kim was doing.

A lot of things had changed…


	2. Second Dimension

**Basil Poledouris - Anvil of Crom**

The three marauders sat at the heavy round table in the center of the dingy tavern, while all around them the other patrons from the small one-horse town kept back, even having gone so far as to push their smaller tables against the walls so that the main area had plenty of room to relax in; a sign of fearful respect to the cruel men. The townsfolk despised the brutal men that sat among them, but they didn't have the courage to leave, fearful as they were that the brutes would grow offended, let alone to protest their presence. So they meekly endured, hiding their disgust and hatred as well as they could.

The raiders sprawled with contemptuous ease in their seats, each of their cloaks draped over the back of their chairs, revealing one to be as heavily muscled as a blacksmith, while the other was even bigger, though his girth came from a huge gut and meaty arms instead of muscle. The third man was an incongruity; he was lean and whip-thin, though his muscles were hard and wiry, and he only carried a small curving sword compared to the fat one's huge spiked morning star and the strong one's longsword, and yet, they deferred to his leadership with an air of dogs owned by a cruel, abusive master.

"Tavernmaster! More food!" The fat one roared out, laughing as he tore the last strip of meat from the long bone of the haunch held in his greasy fist, tossing it over his shoulder and forcing a townsman to duck its passage once he had.

"And ale as well!" The heavily muscled man shouted, his voice rasping like stone on stone.

In the back of the tavern, by the door to the kitchen, the tavernmaster frantically spoke to someone in harsh, low tones. Eventually a woman came out from the back room carrying a huge platter with plates of piled meat and pitchers of ale balanced precariously on it, struggling to carry the unwieldy burden without losing control of it.

Taking up one side, the tavernmaster helped the woman carry the overloaded platter over to the raiders, sliding it into the center of the table with some difficulty.

"Ha ha haa! Now this is more like it!" The fat one roared, digging his greasy hand into a pile of meat and pulling it back with a fistful clutched in his pudgy fingers. Picking up a whole pitcher of ale, he drank deep from it, and then stuffed the meat into his broad maw immediately afterward, chewing vigorously and loudly while ale and small bits of meat ran down his chin.

"I'm thinking _this_ is more like it Orm." The muscled one rasped, his hand shooting out to drag the woman down into his lap by her dress.

Screaming, the woman struggled helplessly as the powerful brute began ripping at her clothing while the fat one looked on and laughed, spraying bits of meat everywhere.

The tavernmaster looked on powerlessly, his face twisting with fear as he forced himself to say; "P-please m-my Lord, I am s-sure that many women here would gladly give you their favors, b-but that is my wife."

"Bah! I'll pay you for the whore if that's what you want worm, now begone!" the muscled one rasped contemptuously, barely glancing at the cowering innkeeper, and provoking another laugh from Orm.

"N-no, I seek nothing m-my Lord! I offer you and your companions all that you wish this night at no cost to yourselves, if only you will release my wife?" the man begged.

The muscled raider glared angrily at the tavernmaster now, his ire plainly evident at the continued distraction from his fun, but before he could speak, the whip-thin leader's smooth, flowing voice cut through the air like the chill of the grave with its cold, cruel tones.

"My man Grayson said he'd pay you for the whore tavernmaster. Are you calling him a _liar_?"

Orm didn't laugh. Instead he took a drink and carefully watched the situation with his dark, piggish eyes. Grayson closed his mouth, watching his leader with a sharp gleam of anticipation in his flinty eyes.

"N-no my Lord, I would never think to do such a thing!" The man said fervently. "I-it's just that… she is my wife my Lord."

Almost faster than anyone in the room could follow, the lean raider snatched his stein off the table while uncoiling from his chair, sweeping his arm up in an arc that ended with the stein impacting on the underside of the tavernmaster's jaw. The heavy pewter mug hit with such force that it crumpled, while in turn, the tavernmaster's jaw was instantly shattered and crushed as he flew back to land on the floor in an insensate heap, blood gushing from his mangled flesh.

"_If my man calls her a whore then that's what she is you worthless craven dog!_" the lean raider roared in a surprisingly thunderous voice. This time Orm laughed even louder than before, and Grayson smiled cruelly.

Screaming again, this time in fear for her husband, the woman managed to pull free of Grayson's grasping hands while he was distracted. Sprawling on the floor, she scrambled over to her husband on all fours and cradled his head in her arms, crying and wailing piteously over his bloody, deformed state.

"Stifle your mewling whore, or you'll be joining him in Hel!" the wiry raider coldly intoned before turning to the increasingly murmuring crowd and shouting; "_What?_ Do any of you spineless dogs have anything to say on behalf of this whore? Come forward and speak you worthless whoresons, or hold your damn tongues like the pathetic scum you are!"

Silence fell upon the room, the townsfolk all looking away from the raiders—and looking away from one another as well, hanging their heads in shame over their helpless state.

"That's what I thou—" the lean raider was cut off by a voice from the door.

"I'll speak for her." A shadowed figure stood in the open doorway. "And she is no whore, unlike you whoreson mercenary butchers."

The raider leader's piercing blue eyes narrowed to slits as he peered at the intruder. Something was wrong here; beyond just the fact that someone had spoken, but he was so surprised he couldn't quite put his finger on it. But still it was there, itching in the back of his mind as the cloaked intruder stepped into the room, walking towards the raiders with a confident stride until they were only a few yards away.

As the intruder moved forward, Orm turned sideways on his chair to watch, unconcerned with a single man, but Grayson, misliking the situation, went so far as to push his seat back and turn in it while resting his hand on the hilt of his sword, readying himself to attack.

Grayson tensed as the intruder moved their gloved hand out from under the cloak, but all they did was undo the clasp so that they could throw it back from their shoulders, letting it fall to the ground to reveal the shocking form underneath. It was a woman!

She was broad-shouldered and taller than most, though not exceptionally so, and her body was lean and well muscled, with enticing curves that were displayed to near scandalous effect, given that all she wore was a pair of long, heavy leather gloves, boots, a tapering 'V' of scale-mail at her loins, and a skimpy brassiere of leather and scale-mail over her small but magnificently shaped breasts.

Grayson gasped as he saw her; she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, ever _heard_ of even! Her richly tanned skin was all but flawless, her long fiery red hair tumbled down around her strong, noble features like an untamed lion's mane, her sharp fern-green eyes were bright and clear, and her mouth was an exquisite bow of sensuality.

Orm glanced at his leader, saying; "Ho ho Vash, look at this! The whores in this town take their trade very seriously; she wears a sword you see?"

While Orm laughed uproariously, Vash did nothing but stare at the beautiful woman with narrowed eyes. He had seen. And more so, he had heard tales… Vash shook his head sharply. No, those were just wild rumors. Fables spun by drunken fools and dreamers. No woman could ever… and yet… she dared to carry a sword. Shaking his head again, Vash suddenly realized how he must look, struck dumb by a _woman's_ challenge!

"How dare you challenge us whore! On your knees before us and beg forgiveness or we will be sure to take your pretty looks and shrewish tongue along with our pleasures!" Vash hissed with chill menace.

"You'll take nothing from me or anyone else ever again craven dog, for on this day I shall send you all to Hel." The woman snarled, her face twisting with rage.

She moved so fast that even though Vash was staring at her intently he still nearly couldn't follow it. Her right hand swept around and to the left, long fingers curling around the worn leather hilt of her sword. Then her arm tensed as she stepped forward into a low crouch, right leg bent deep and left leg extended in a line behind her, her gently curving blade sweeping free of its scabbard with the high musical chime of true Atlantian steel, the flawless draw-cut ending with the last three inches of razored steel passing through Grayson's thick throat with a frightening ease.

As a fountain of blood gushed out from Grayson's bisected arteries, he staggered to his feet and then lurched back and to the side before collapsing on the floor, the darkness of oblivion swiftly closing in as his life's blood pumped out onto the floor to soak the dirt and sawdust with its crimson hue.

At the same time as Grayson was taking his last actions in the world of the living, Orm was roaring in anger and lumbering to his feet, swinging his meaty arm up and back at the woman even as she herself was rising and sweeping her sword back around to strike at him. Her sword cut a deep gash across Orm's fat chest and broad shoulder, but he in turn hit her with all the power in his meaty arm, sending her flying back to smash into a table which exploded into splintery chunks as it collapsed under the impact.

Vash's eyes widened as, a few seconds later, the woman rose from the wreckage and lifted her sword, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth as she stepped towards Orm with cold anger in her eyes. It was impossible! He had seen Orm crush a man's skull with such a blow! And yet, she still lived, still came on!

Orm roared in pain and picked up his morning star from where it lay on the table, stepping out into the open area and sweeping the spiked weapon at the woman with frightening ease. The woman hopped back as the spiked ball whistled through the air and then lashed out with her sword, carving a bloody slice out of Orm's fat side as he tried to recover from his swing.

Circling to the left of Orm, the woman's sword arced out again, but Orm parried with his morning star and then took the weapon in both hands, unleashing a storm of furious sweeping strikes and thrusts that Vash had seen take down a dozen men at a time. But the woman twisted and ducked and leapt and even used her sword to deflect a few of the strikes, remaining untouched throughout the entire onslaught.

As Orm made his next strike, the woman leapt out to the side, and his morning star smashed into one of the sturdy wooden posts holding up the roof, cracking it asunder and wrenching it to the side in a fan of sharp splinters before it came to a stop at a wide angle, nailed together by the spikes of Orm's morning star. Orm tugged at his weapon with all his strength, wrenching it back and forth in an effort to pull it free, but it held fast.

To the side of Orm, the woman lashed out at him with her sword, sweeping a foot of the blade up and into his left armpit before pulling it back as she continued lifting, the curving edge slicing through fat, muscle, tendon, and arteries to emerge in a spray of blood.

Vash drew his small, curving sword and reached out, flipping the table between himself and the Hel-spawned woman to the side even as Orm turned to face the woman with nothing more than his fists, not understanding that she had already killed him, he just hadn't finished dying yet.

Orm lumbered forward and the woman leapt to the side of him, her sword lashing out to sever the tendons in his knee as she hit the floor and rolled into a low crouch. While Orm's leg collapsed under his mighty weight and he went down in a sprawling heap, Vash lunged forward, his curving sword sweeping out toward the woman's curving back as she crouched on the floor.

At the last moment the woman sensed him coming and leapt forward, avoiding his blade by only a hairsbreadth, rolling over her shoulder and coming around and up to her feet facing him just in time to parry his blade as he continued to attack.

Cursing, Vash crowded in close to the woman, seeking to hamper her longer blade; while behind her, townsfolk screamed and leaped out of the way as they fled the area to avoid their sweeping steel. While Vash advanced, behind him Orm finally collapsed with a sigh and lost consciousness, his blood joining Grayson's in staining the floor.

Vash put everything he had into his assault, knowing by what he'd seen that however mad it might seem, the woman before him was a swords… woman, of exceptional skill. Sweat poured down his chest and arms as his bladed licked out almost faster than the eye could follow, but still the woman fended him off with equal skill and speed, despite the close-quarters disadvantage she faced.

Vash's eyes widened slightly as he saw that he had almost pushed her back to the wall with his assault, and then he grinned evilly, locking blades with the woman and shoving her back the last step to slam her against the wall hard, trapping her blade between her and his own.

Snarling, Vash leaned in and glared into her furious green eyes as he held her trapped against the wall, his foul breath gusting in her face as he said; "You killed my men bitch! For that I'll make you beg for death before I finally send you screaming to Hel once I'm finished with you!"

"I think not!" the woman snarled in return as she braced her back against the wall and pushed back against his sword with all her might, arms trembling with power. Vash laughed, knowing he had the advantage of position; it was only a matter of time until her strength gave out, no matter how vigorous she was now, and then he would have her!

Vash's harsh laughter turned to a shocked gasp as the woman shifted her weight slightly and whipped her left knee up between his legs, smashing his manhood so hard he felt it burst inside him. Staggering back, the strength pouring out of him as it was replaced by incapacitating agony, Vash collapsed to his knees and his sword fell from his weakened grasp. Looking up, the last thing that Vash saw in this world was a gentle arc of shimmering Atlantian steel passing through his eyes, and then he saw no more.

Covered in blood, the woman calmly walked out into the room and picked up Vash's cloak from the back of his chair, using it to carefully clean the blood from her sword as she continued on to the bar. Once she'd finished and sheathed her blade, only then did she clean the blood of her enemies from herself.

As she did, all around the room the townsfolk were murmuring and whispering, while several of them went to the tavernmaster and quickly used Grayson's bloody cloak as a stretcher to carry him out to the healer. His wife remained behind, knowing there was nothing she could do, and that it would take a miracle from the gods for him to survive. Instead, she approached the strange, outlandish woman with the sword who had brought swift death to visit her tavern.

"I… I t-thank you for… for your actions my Lady. If not for you…" she trailed of as the woman looked at her with a ghost of a smile.

"I'm no Lady. And I care not for your thanks, though a meal and ale would be appreciated."

"Yes, of course my L— I mean, yes, yes, as you wish, I will see to it right away!"

As the woman sat at the bar waiting for her food and drink, the remaining townsfolk talked behind her back; some fearful, others outraged, but most curious or in awe. The tales had been spreading; whispers on the wind spoke of a woman like no other. An outlander that wielded a sword and fought with a skill unmatched by any man, one that sought out the wicked and the cruel and sent them to Hel in vengeance for their evil.

It was said by those few that claimed to know it that she had not always been like this, that she had once been a gentle creature. But all that changed on the night raiders had raped and slaughtered her foster family before her eyes and left her violated body for dead. It was said that as she was dying, a Goddess appeared to her and offered a bargain: that she would live, and be granted unparalleled skill with the sword. In return, there would be a price; a curse of loneliness that would stem from the very thing she was gifted with. Those that claimed to know said that on that night, as she picked up the curving sword of Atlantian steel offered to her by the Goddess, the woman she once was died and she took a new name to match her new bloody path.

That name flew on the wind like a flock of birds in all directions, spreading from town to town as her story grew. In time, it would eclipse the world, and be etched into the river of time as her legend rivaled that of the gods themselves, to be told and retold by countless generations for millennia to come.

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(This was a Fusion. I'm pretty sure it's obvious, but if not guess away as to who Kim became in this nasty little world…) 


	3. Third Dimension

Second Dimension answer is: Red Sonja. And now for a little Halloween Horror…

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- **O Fortuna** -

The three Sarafan were breathing heavily and clustered together, back to back to back as they crouched warily in the dim torchlight, their weak human eyes trying to pierce the inky night outside the circle of its feeble radiance, their weapons at the ready for any sign of movement. Kim smiled broadly as she listened to their hearts pounding in their chests, drank in their fear scent wafting through the air, saw the dread in the wide whites of their eyes.

Circling around to the left as silent as a ghost, she hefted the body of the fourth Sarafan she'd taken while they were still unaware of her, rushing out of the darkness and carrying him off before they could do more than turn and cry out, only their shouts giving chase as she'd vanished into the night once more, the swiftly silenced screams of their companion bringing a chill to their veins as they fully realized what was happening.

Once she was in position, Kim dug her claws deeper into the pallid flesh of the Sarafan corpse she held, getting a better grip on it while she filled her lungs with air. A moment later she drew back her right arm, the limp body hanging from her hand like a giant rag doll, and vented a screech while hurling it toward the spear-wielding Sarafan below the rise she was on.

As soon as the body left her hand, Kim sprinted in a tight circle around the group, drawing on all her speed, before twisting and heading straight in for the sword wielder. While she ran, the corpse sailed through the air towards its target, and the Sarafan reacted just as Kim knew they would, just as their training taught them. The one with the crossbow whirled and fired, aiming for the center of the body's chest, while the spear wielder raised the end of his weapon to catch the corpse in its center mass with the broad, two-foot long blade tipping the heavy oaken shaft, bringing the body up short suddenly as it impacted the foot-wide crossbar beneath the blade.

It was the actions of the sword-wielding Sarafan that Kim focused on as she raced towards him however, her grin broad enough to bare her ivory fangs now as she saw him turn and step forward, preparing to decapitate the body impaled on the end of the spear—and also exposing his back and side to her as she rushed in at him.

As the Sarafan swung his blade, the sharp, curving steel of the broad, heavy kopesh sheering through his deceased companion's neck with frightening ease, Kim was there beside him, catching his arm in her clawed grip on the follow-through. Her left hand dug into the flesh of his upper arm just above the elbow, while her right grasped his hand, her claws ripping open his skin as she crushed his fingers against the hilt of his sword in a terrible iron grip.

Even as the Sarafan sucked air into his lungs to scream, Kim wrenched his hand back while pushing forward on his upper arm, violently dislocating his elbow with a sickening, wet crunch. The Sarafan vented his scream while Kim tore his sword free from his now feeble grasp. A moment later she raised her left leg and planted her foot in the small of his back, brutally shoving the crippled Sarafan away from her before turning and slashing down with her sword, slicing through the second Sarafan's spear shaft cleanly, making sure the cut was straight so there would be no point on the four feet of wood she left him with.

As the spear-wielder stumbled back from the sudden give of his severed weapon, Kim lashed out with a sweeping diagonal upswing of her sword, and he threw himself back even further, avoiding the blow easily. The attack was merely a feint however; as Kim threw herself at her real target an instant later.

The third Sarafan had just finished working the elaborate lever, gear, and spring mechanism that reloaded her heavy crossbow, a fresh bolt ratcheting into the groove as she brought the weapon up towards Kim, when Kim's heavy blade smashed into the bulky device and it exploded from the sudden release of tension as the sword shattered the apparatus. Kim hissed loudly in pain and anger as a chunk of broken gear imbedded itself in her thigh and her forearm was flensed open by a lashing bowstring, while the Sarafan screamed as her hands were torn open by the disintegrating weapon, staggering back and bringing them up to stare in horror as white bone gleamed wetly through a torrent of red streaming out from her tattered flesh.

Kim gave a feral snarl as she whipped her arm around and back, hurling her sword without looking behind her, the silvery arc ending with it impaling its original owner in the back, the curving point bursting from his sternum in an explosion of gore. Even as the sword flew through space, Kim ripped loose the chunk of metal in her thigh and threw it aside, advancing on the female Sarafan with her fangs bared while the pallid flesh of both her ragged wounds knitted together before the terrified woman's very eyes.

Kim struggled to control herself, but the thirst was rising too quickly and far too strong within her; the drain of calling upon so much of her speed and strength along with healing the unexpected injuries combined with the heavy blood scent hanging in the air, sending a red haze across her vision while the woman's terrified shrieks called to her instincts like a siren song.

Snarling, Kim threw herself at the woman, bearing her to the ground, catching her arms in her iron grip, and slamming them down to either side of her, her sharp claws tearing through her heavy clothing and the flesh beneath alike. Rearing back, Kim hissed, her jaws gaping wide, prominently displaying her gleaming sets of needle-sharp twin ivory fangs both top and bottom, then lunged forward, burying her teeth in her victim's throat, slicing through tender flesh and releasing a blast of hot coppery blood into Kim's greedy mouth.

As Kim noisily drank down the mouthfuls of heady ambrosia flooding into her mouth, pleasure shuddering through her with every gulping swallow, she chewed at her victim's throat to release a greater flow of the rich liquid, the whole of her being focused on sucking out every last drop of the sweet life force pumping up from the savaged flesh. It wasn't until the butt spike of the last Sarafan's spear shaft slammed into her back, nearly impaling her, that she became aware of anything outside of that singular, all consuming ecstasy.

Kim's head shot up as she hissed her pain and outrage in a spray of blood mist, twisting and smashing the last Sarafan away from her with a backhanded blow of her left arm. A moment later she hopped up into a squat and stood, reaching around to rip the shaft out of her back and gaze at it in contempt. The fool should have known it wouldn't work; the cap was twice as wide as the spike, he was lucky to have gotten it in as far as he did.

As the last Sarafan got to his feet and drew his dagger, fear twisting his otherwise plain features into an ugly mask, Kim slowly licked the traces of blood from her claws, and then cleaned her face with her long pink tongue, reveling in every last trace of the crimson delight on her skin.

"You really should have run, at least then you would have stood a chance." Kim smiled as she spoke warmly while advancing on the Sarafan, casually flipping the four-foot spear shaft through the air and catching it in her right hand. The Sarafan's gaze darted from side to side, and Kim smirked, adding; "Oh, it's far too late for that now."

Kim rushed forward, swinging the heavy oaken pole with contemptuous ease, as if it were no more than a light willow switch in her fingers, but the impact of the end of the blurring piece of wood upon the Sarafan's hand was far from that of a simple switch, shattering it completely with a sickening wet crunch of splintering bone and tearing flesh.

The Sarafan screamed as his dagger spun off into the night, but before he could do more than begin to move his arms together to cradle his mangled limb, Kim struck out with her shaft again, sweeping it back to batter his injured arm away from his body and snap his forearm like a twig, the broken limb twisting back at nearly a right angle while bone shards erupted from split skin in an explosion of blood.

Again and again and again Kim lashed out with her four-foot club, breaking every bone in both the Sarafan's arms, until they hung like limp, bloody rope to either side of him. The man was barely conscious now, staggering and stumbling around while mewling, high-pitched cries issued forth from his gaping mouth. Kim's cold grin twisted as she tossed her improvised weapon off into the darkness; the thirst was rising, calling to her again as she watched the beautiful crimson rivulets run down the ruins of the Sarafan's arms.

Kim licked her lips, and her smile parted to reveal her fangs once more, but then she paused, shaking her head and fighting instinct. She knew she couldn't allow the fervent desire to overcome her; she must be the one that ruled it, not it her. Her will, not instinct. Her control, not lack of it.

Instead of rushing forward to feast as her instincts called for her to do, Kim focused herself; found the heart of her power deep within her, all wrapped up in burning hunger and passion and instinct. Her fanged maw gaped wide and she _called_ to the blood running out of the dying Sarafan before her, and it responded to her dark power, to her dark thirst, rising through the air and rushing into her mouth as if she were inhaling it, filling her with the indescribable ecstasy of its hot crimson energy.

It was only when the final few drops of the Sarafan's life's blood were pulled from his veins that his trembling, wracked body was released from the grip of Kim's dark power, dropping to the earth like the pallid sack of dead flesh he now was. Kim turned, no longer interested in the useless corpse behind her, and then came up short, her gaze falling across a distant form standing far off in the next pool of torchlight up the way.

In mere instants, Kim sprinted to the figure, rushing out of the night with her fangs bared and fingers gently curled, claws at the ready, only to come up short once more as she beheld the truth of her target.

An older woman gaped at her in shock, horror filling her eyes as she twisted her body, hands protectively clutching the shoulders of a young girl no more than seven, only the thick cascade of her blonde curls visible as she pressed into the woman's side, hiding her face in the older woman's skirts.

Kim's posture relaxed, and the ruby retreated from her eyes, leaving them fern-green once more as she straightened. Her expression softened and her lips came together, hiding her fangs. A moment later she drew a breath unneeded save for speech, but even as the words formed in her throat, she realized something was wrong. In her mind, far too late, the answer blossomed from her instincts; there was no fear scent in the air.

The illusion in front of Kim wavered and vanished, disrupted by a mass of bright golden ribbons unfurling through it, lashing out through space and wrapping around each of Kim's limbs even as she desperately tried to throw herself aside. In moments she was hoisted three feet into the air, the black-runed, glowing ribbons wrenching her arms and legs out to hold her spread-eagled as she thrashed and screeched helplessly.

Striding out of the darkness in front of Kim came a figure that drew her attention immediately. He was tall and lean, and resplendent in the gold, snow-white, royal purple, and silver regalia of a full Sarafan mystic Grand Inquisitor. A silver breastplate with a golden cross emblazoned across it protected his chest, while a smooth snow-white leather neck guard flowed up to disappear underneath a helm that was a single featureless oval, silver with a golden cross across its face and polished to a radiant shine.

As he came to a halt, the Grand Inquisitor's snow-white cloak rustled gently on the ground, and he looked up to examine Kim coldly, the manner clearly evident despite his hidden features. Bringing his silver-and-gold gauntleted hands together, the Grand Inquisitor grasped his leather-and-gold bound holy book while his voice rang out pure and with a metallic reverberation.

"You are powerful for a whelp; far more powerful than you should be… but a whelp nonetheless, and no match for my purity and faith. Now, abomination, I shall cast your soul down to hell where the filth of your kind belongs, before you can wreak your evil upon this world any further."

Kim thrashed and screamed and hissed and roared, all her strength both physical and mystic pouring into tearing free of the bonds that held her, and indeed, she felt them give as she fought them, but only slightly, and far too little to buy her freedom. Fear and desperation entered her eyes as the Sarafan Grand Inquisitor opened his holy book, but before he could begin to intone the holy words that would burn her to ash, a third voice cut through the night, bringing a surge of hope to Kim as her head whipped around to the shadows from which it emanated.

"Oh really, you Sarafan are hardly ones to talk of abominations and evils with your hypocrisy—especially a Grand Inquisitor such as yourself. Tell me Sarafan, how many of my kind have you tortured over the years to gain your exalted rank amongst your brethren? Ten? Twenty? Fifty? A hundred?"

The cynical, contemptuous voice was forceful, vibrant, and cultured—if just a bit cutting—and immediately claimed the attention of the Sarafan, causing him to whirl around, ignoring Kim completely.

"You dare accuse me of wrongdoing monster? I wield the holy fire of faith that I may stand against the evils of your kind, and I will not suffer your jibes! Show yourself that I might send you screaming back to hell where you belong filth!"

A tall, powerful figure stepped from the darkness to stand merely in shadow—or perhaps, the darkness merged and came together to birth its form.

"Please. We kill because it is what we are, what we were made to do. It is our nature. You Sarafan hunt us relentlessly so you can crucify, burn, torture, maim, and break us not for your own survival, but rather from your hatred and intolerance; you are ruled by your fear and petty human failings, all very shiny and pretty in your righteousness, but corrupt to the core beneath that thin veneer of purity."

"_You dare—_" the Sarafan repeated like a broken record, but he was cut off as the figure strode into the light, smugly saying; "Oh yes, I most certainly dare. I dare a great many things Sarafan."

Broad shouldered and powerfully muscled, the torchlight fell across the tight grayish tan hide of his bare chest and face to give it a healthier appearance than harsher light would have. Despite the monstrousness of his gaunt features, a certain nobility still remained, further emphasized by the way his heavy brow ridges rose up into twin pairs of small hornlike projections, crown-like in how they framed his flowing mane of snow-white hair.

"You!" the Sarafan gasped, taking a step back.

"Indeed, me. It usually is." The new arrival's mouth twisted into a wry smirk, made all the more unkind by the way the lines of his skull showed clearly upon his countenance, and his yellow wolf's eyes gleamed with a cruel mirth. The black leather of his tight, heavy pants creaked slightly as he took another step forward, reaching up with a hand clad in a fingerless black gauntlet to grasp the long hilt projecting up over his right shoulder.

"Kain! Watch out, he's stronger than he looks!" Kim shouted to her Sire, redoubling her efforts to escape as she did, hoping the distraction had reduced the effectiveness of the Grand Inquisitor's bindings—it hadn't.

"Oh, of that I have no doubt Childe; he would _have_ to be…" Kain's smirk deepened at the subtle insult, but it seemed lost on the Sarafan.

"I do not fear you vampire Lord!" The Grand Inquisitor intoned, letting his holy book fall to his side to hang on its golden chain while he made arcane gestures, summoning a broad teardrop-shaped shield of golden light around either arm, the sharp points projecting far past each of his hands and looking almost eager to pierce the undead flesh before them.

"Then you're a _fool_ Sarafan, but you'll learn that soon enough." Kain sneered, drawing his two-handed sword from over his shoulder and swinging it down, his other hand coming to rest on the hilt with a familiar ease.

With a suddenness that startled the Sarafan even though he knew it was coming, Kain tightened his thick fingers around the hilt and snapped the broad, sinuous black kriss blade up with frightening ease, springing forward and slashing down at the Sarafan violently. As the blade cut through the air in a black smear, the eyes of the huge horned, fanged skull that formed its cross guard glowed a dull red, and the sword gave off a hollow, screaming howl of unrelenting hunger.

The Sarafan blocked the blow with his shields of light, but before he could counterattack, Kain sent his sword screaming in again—literally—to smash against them once more. The Sarafan was pressed back as Kain hammered away at him mercilessly, his relentless assault filling the night with his grunts of effort and the howls of his ever-hungry sword. Kim smiled maliciously as she saw the Sarafan's body language become desperate, realizing he would never have the chance to do anything but defend against the tireless avalanche of attacks Kain was maintaining against him with the inexorable persistence of the undead.

Small cracks and chips began forming in the Sarafan's mystic shields as his power began to wane under the assault and his faith crumbled, replaced by fear of the monster before him. Kain's feral snarl twisted to a dark grin of anticipation, and he shouted "Vey Victus!" as he hammered the shields with even greater vigor, sensing his impending victory.

Moments later the shields shattered like glass, fragments spraying across space as they disintegrated in trailing pinpoints of sparkling golden light, vanishing completely before ever reaching the ground. A split second later Kain's sword looped around and buried itself in the Sarafan's chest, blood spraying from the cleft before cutting off suddenly. It was only a moment later that the Sarafan vented a soul-wrenching scream, the rising cry seeming to stretch out forever as it echoed through the night.

Kain's sword screamed back at the Sarafan as a faint blue glow was pulled out of him, the energy diffusing into the weapon as the blade's endless hunger for souls was sated for the brief time it took for it to devour the Sarafan's, leaving behind a wizened, emaciated husk of a corpse.

Kain wrenched his blade free of the scarecrow now hanging from it, and the body fell to pieces as it hit the ground, only its clothing keeping it in any semblance of its original shape.

Turning to Kim, Kain smiled sardonically, holding the weapon with deceptive ease in his left hand while stroking his chin thoughtfully with the right. Then he said said; "Well now, whatever shall I do with you?"

Kim looked down, embarrassed, and her pale cheeks would have grown flushed were they still capable. A moment later she mustered the courage to meet her Sire's gaze, albeit bashfully, and replied; "I'm sorry Kain, I… I hesitated."

Kain sighed and shook his head, walking over to Kim and raising the Soul Reaver high, using it one-handed to sever the spell bindings still holding her in place. A moment later she was unceremoniously dumped to the earth, the dissipating spell energy preventing her from landing on her feet as she easily could have otherwise.

As Kim rolled to her feet and stood up, Kain said; "It's not your fault Childe, you can't help these lingering remnants of your mortal existence. But you must try and cast them off as quickly as you can. Even using the Chronoplast to hide within the time stream the agents of the Elder God are everywhere, and you _must_ be ready to fight them _sooner_ than later; there is no time to spare, if you will pardon me that irony."

"I know Kain, and I'm trying my best, really I am, but it's hard for me."

"I know Childe," Kain said softly, gazing at the Soul Reaver. "But you must strive to focus. Unlike every other creature great or small in this realm, you are neither tied to the Pillars of Nosgoth nor the Wheel of Fate. Your strange otherworldly nature makes you my coin that landed on its edge; the only one that might be able to break the chains of fate and still be able to destroy the Elder God and end this farce!"

Kain's face softened as much as it could, and he gazed at the Soul Reaver fondly while stroking the smooth top of the skull with his clawed thumb.

"I will _not_ abandon Raziel to this torturous existence if there is any way to prevent it, do you understand Childe?" Kain murmured quietly, before his voice grew hard and forceful with his conviction. "And _you_ are the only one that may be able to save him, so you _will_!"

Kim nodded. "Yes Sire, I won't fail you."

Kain looked up, scenting the breeze while he sheathed the Soul Reaver. "Come Childe, the destruction of a Grand Inquisitor will not go unnoticed, either by pawns of the Elder God or by the Hylden. We must go to the Time Streaming chamber and flee to another time period."

Kim nodded and within moments, a huge snow-white bat and a smaller, red furred one were flying away from the old city, heading for the wilds of Nosgoth. As Kim flew, she mentally repeated the mantra she had created and been using ever since she met Kain after falling into this world, and more importantly, ever since he had turned her into the vampire she now was.

_In this world good and evil don't matter; all that matters is_ Power _and_ Will_. The true Enemy is beyond good and evil, and I can't let what I was stop me from being what I need to be to defeat it._

She also fervently prayed that one of these days—hopefully very, very soon—she would finally come to believe it…


	4. Fourth Dimension

Third Dimension was the PS1/2 game series Legacy of Kain. Now for something short, sweet, and self-explanatory.

* * *

- **Walk the Fire - Robert Duncan (The Unit Theme)** -

Kim sighed, sitting down after pacing the length of her small cubicle of a room for the dozenth time. It was such a big decision. This world was so different from her own. She had almost no power here, no way to make a real difference. But if she accepted this position she would have near limitless power, be able to fight once more no matter the opposition. If only she was willing to give up her independence, to submit to another authority for as long as she was willing to… serve.

It was such a _big_ decision. But… it was what she wanted, wasn't it? She'd fought for the position, endured grueling training and overcome countless obstacles in the last two years working for this. Still, the last minute hesitation was understandable. She was going to be giving up what she was to become something else entirely, and it was scary to think about.

Kim stood up again, walking over to her dresser and taking out her uniform—her _new_ uniform; one a full-fledged member of the Corps would wear, not a recruit's uniform. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Kim took off her clothes and put on the one-piece black-and-green outfit, turning and looking at herself in the full-length mirror in the corner. Despite the symbolism of the pattern and colors, Kim had to admit the uniform did look good on her.

Smiling, Kim shook her head. She was ready. She wouldn't let her apprehension stop her from doing what she needed to do in this world. She would reclaim her power to affect the world around her, no matter what sacrifices it took. She _had_ to; it was who she was, and she couldn't ignore it.

It was almost time. Kim moved to the door and triggered it. As the portal slid aside with a soft hiss, both Kim and the woman in the hall who was just about to ring her door chime gave a little start of surprise.

"She'enn, what are you doing here?" Kim asked, surprised.

"It's not all the time a recruit as promising as you joins the Corps, so I figured I'd come watch your swearing in ceremony." The pale woman responded, her full black lips twisting in a wry smirk as she struck a relaxed pose in her identical black-and-green uniform.

"But I thought no one was allowed to attend but recruits and the Guardians."

"Oh please, you should know I don't give a damn about the regs by now Red." She'enn responded, flipping her long flowing mane of raven hair over her shoulder. A moment later she brought a slender cheroot cigar up to her lips, emerald energy surrounding her hand for a moment as she lit it and took a deep drag.

"Ugh, I still don't know how you can stand to smoke those things She'enn." Kim said as she stepped out into the hall and started heading for the ceremony hall.

"Gengineered and chem. treated for zero drawbacks Red, you know that." The older woman responded, blowing out a stream of fragrant smoke.

Kim just shuddered with a soft "ugh" and ignored her, her mind on the ceremony to come. Just before they reached the hall, She'enn reached out and took Kim by the shoulder, stopping her.

"Are you sure this is what you want Red?" She asked softly. "I know it can't be easy for you after what you told me about your home dimension and who you were there."

"It's ok She'enn, it's what I want. I can't be powerless; no matter what it takes, I have to be who I am, even if that means having to answer to a higher authority."

"Well, the Guardians usually give the reigns a light touch Red; just look at me." She'enn smirked slyly.

Kim laughed, shaking her head as she thought about how She'enn was so very much like the other pale woman in black-and-green Kim knew that she so resembled. Taking a deep breath, Kim nodded to the older woman, and she nodded back. A moment later Kim strode into the Hall of the Oath and took her place with the other black-and-green clad recruits, while She'enn leaned against the back wall casually, blowing smoke rings and smiling wryly at the blue-skinned masters of the planet and the Corps as they looked down at her presence with displeasure.

Deciding to ignore She'enn's presence—most likely because they knew the scene she'd cause if they tried to do anything about it—the Guardians proceeded with the ceremony, and it was only a short while later that Kim took her ring—her _real_ ring, not a trainee's practice ring—and put it on for the first time.

Looking up at the huge primary power font above her, Kim mirrored the other recruits around her and held her ring up high, pointing the stylized circle and twin bars on its face toward the wellspring of power. Her voice trembled with emotion as she took the Oath for the first time, feeling the truth of the words sink into her soul as she spoke them. Here, in this universe, this was what she would be. She was Kim Possible, and she would have the power to make a difference once more. It was who she was.

"In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight! Let those who worship evil's might, beware my power… Green Lantern's light!"


End file.
